


Sullied youth aftermath

by orphan_account



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Dark Past, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Forced Crossdressing, Heavy Angst, Implied Relationships, M/M, Miscarriage, Murder, Mutilation, Personality Swap, Redemption, Tragedy/Comedy, Verbal Abuse, just gotta warn ya this is gonna be fuckin dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 09:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A four-chapter story centered on 2D and Murdoc - their personalities switched! Dark themes and fucked morals are in this story so be wary and read at your own risk.





	1. Worst in me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm quite proud and ashamed of this new work.  
> Stuart pot - Stuart "2D" Tosspot (Lastname slang for an alcoholic of sorts! :3)  
> Murdoc Niccals - Murdoc Nicholas (7 years younger than 2D)  
> I'm not going to lie, this is fucked. And not exactly personality swaps considering they'll still have ghosts of their original character.  
> And also?  
> 2D likes pun. (Puns indicate murder)  
> //All my other works are put on hold because I'm style practicing with this story mainly. Estimated Story end: Three weeks from 4/10/18

# Cuckoo Exploit

The stage was festooned in blush pink décor and upon it featured Stuart Tosspot, age 6, in a strawberry wrap dress. He stood as the center of attention, mortified and heavily shamefaced to his spot; he bowed his head, trying his best to hide the blush creeping across his face, and blinked back tears. The scrutiny of their gazes left him inhibited, leaking a gauche mindset concerning his person to form. 

"So," One of the judges begins after a time; relieving the awkward atmosphere amongst the crowd and continuing after Stuart's long delay of introduction. "Your mother tells us your name is Stella. How nice it is to meet you," 

He fidgeted for a long while, no matter the intensity of their gazes, his words were lodged in the back of his throat. 

"Why did you join this beauty pageant, Stella?" 

Why? Because his Mother was disillusioned with grief; someone she had never even known had been taken away from her, as unexpected as his Father's quietus. There was a flowerbed of sun drops dedicated to the stranger in their back garden; and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why his Mother even bothered. She hadn't known them but she insisted on crying in the hallway, reading in a cemetery, and putting toys on their grave - he had half a mind to mention that he could play with the new toys instead; he was the one alive after all. 

So many questionable things and nonsense, unfortunately, he was too young to understand. He couldn't quite connect the dots between the timeliness of his Mother's belly slimming drastically and her depression - he concluded she missed Father. He did too. He always waited on someone who would never come back. He was barely 5 at the time but now, a year gone and passed, he was paying for them both; blamed for their untimely demise. Why? 

"I think we're done here," One of the judges grumbled. 

Stuart looked up, the stage lights streaming into his eyes, and rather than feeling relieved... His eyes found his Mother and all he felt was fear. She stood out like blood in the ocean; her hair hanging in greasy, menacing clumps, eyes burning with rage, held with promise, and skin a portrait of booze and cigarettes. 

No one in that room knew about the bruises on his back or his thighs or the scars inside his mind; his mother did well in keeping his mouth shut. So when she dragged him off the stage, he didn't protest like he should have; what help would that get him? His word against hers - he was just a child. Rachel could fool them all again, cast her spell and reign, again, the bleeding hearts; then back to square 1. He walked with her like they really were a functional family of the remained, not like she was a monster, and he took the beating later that night. 

Afterward, she bathed him in lavender scented water until the copper smell became bearable, washed his hair in vanilla oils, dressed him in a baby doll dress, and she brought him to sleep in her bed - where she could watch him and make sure he didn't take off the dress. Into a miserable slumber he went, awaking at every creak and sobbing softly - wishing his father were there.

## II Accumulated Expiry

The estate of Sebastian Nicholas was caked with a ghoulish quality, a morbid flavor in the air like a rattler's bite. The double doors the equivalent of awakening, following a night of considerate wine, with a hangover known as the _"Grape Depression."_ He smirked to himself and fought a chuckle that burned in his throat; he always did make himself laugh. 

"What a nice change of scenery," Stuart spoke aloud to himself, eyeing the depressing residence with a tight smile; "Coming to Sir Alky's abode instead of enjoying an art show in Edinburgh? Must be the luckiest Cambion around," 

The trek up the house's front sounded lonely to his ears, a hint of anger spicing the supposed-intimidating dwelling to an annoyance. Forty minutes on a plane - a stuffy, box of balanced quietus - had more than aggravated him; he was wont to driving in his Camaro but was he stupid enough to endure six hours in his car, in silence because his radio was broken, instead of forty minutes on a plane? He was downright impulsive, yes, brash, yes, obnoxious, probably, but stupid? He had common sense; should probably use it more often come to think of it... 

Now, he stood, prideful, on the porch of an alcoholic. Thrice he knocked on the door and when he'd done that, he took up the task of lighting himself a cigarette. He scavenged his pocket in his waiting, popped his indulgence to hold in his mouth, put his pack away, and took up his lighter. He heard muffled sounds arise from inside the house, possibly worrisome, but he paid no mind, singed the butt of his cigarette and let the nicotine fill his lungs for the time being. 

After his first drag, the door creaked open and he saw the beginning of Sebastian Jacob Nicholas. The man held a perfect picture of misuse, skin the portrait of booze and plentiful smoking years; hair like sewage. 

"Tosspot." Sebastian voiced, recognition from a pool game in his eyes, and he foolishly held open the door - like welcoming a guest. 

"Hello!" 2D chirped, cigarette snug in the missing placement of his two front teeth; he felt his hand along the inside of his jacket, grasping ahold his desired item, and he smiled disarmingly at the alcoholic. He took no time in revealing his Sig Sauer- 

And he shot him. 

He accounted for the rise of the man's squinting eyes, how they would spring with life- how ironic - and most importantly, how the man would slump against the door heavily. His eyes unseeing to the world. 

"Well, ain't that a _son of a gun_ ," 2D grinned in assumed victory and stowed his gun away, back into the inner pocket of his tattered duster. "But you've always been a bit of a _loose cannon_ , Seb, someone thought it was your time to _bite the bullet_. Admittedly, I think I'd _gone off half-cocked_ with this set up, eh?" 

What he didn't account for was Sebastian's son - a 17 year old; Murdoc Nicholas. The boy appeared suddenly, hands over his ears like the gunshot still rung, and he stared down at his father. 2D was taken aback and he leaned away with a small moment of regret, more derived from awkward situation than of guilt. 

The boy finally looked at him, eyes wide and like his socks - mismatched in color - so much emotion welled together in an unreadable mess. 

"Does your Mother happen to be home?" 2D asked. 

"...Dead," Was the followed reply. 

A long minute of silence. 

"Hey!" 2D said in a playful drawl, "Both my parents are dead too! Talk about coincidence, am I right?" 

Murdoc said: 

"The fuc- That wasn't a bloody coincidence, you fuckin' shot 'em."

## III Homicidal Nipper

His neighbor's cat wasn't pretty, squashed face and punched in nose, it smelled horrible and always wandered into his garden with it's greedy, yellow eyes set on his plants. So it was easy to raise his air rifle and shoot the little fucker; once he saw the cat remain motionless he had the thought of what Ralphie said in the Christmas Story and concluded that the awful feline was dead. 

"Might teach 'er to mind her pets," He said, all alone and bitterly referring to the crazy hag next door. "How's that, huh? Bet you _cat_ live without fuckin' Mister Whiskers or whatever..."

He giggles helplessly at his own stupidity and has an after-thought, with a smile on his face, he makes way to the dead cat and pokes the barrel of his air rifle into it's stilled stomach - he notes it's very fluffy. 

"Hey pussy cat," He says to the late and lamented mouser. "Are you still _feline_ good? You don't look too swell, mate-" He stops to giggle for a while. He continues:

"Hope you're staying _paw-sitive_ cause that's the right _catitude_ to have!" His laugh is of humor but sobers up shortly, he fixes the hem of his shirt and lets the rifle fall from his grip. And he merely stares at the deceased tom, somewhat perplexed by the hand of death; how easy it had been - didn't weigh on his conscience either. He'd say it was anticlimactic. 

His eyes trailed along the cat's form, the exposed fluffy belly, the peaceful - crooked - shape of it's body, and how the black fur waved in the breeze. The ears pointed in odd directions and only then had he noticed how well-groomed the cat was, fluffy and soft looking fur... It was terribly cute. He crouched and ran his hand over the cat in an experimental pet - his hand met smooth fur and fluff and cute pudge on the tiny body... such a cute animal. He rubbed the cat's ears between his fingertips and smiled gently, feeling the cat's tiny face... He picked up the tiny frame and nuzzled into the soft underbelly, sighing into the pleasant sensation - the feline hung limp in his hands. He lays the cat back down into the grass and runs his fingers through it's fur one last time. Such a pretty kitty.... He then stands. 

"Alright, I'm done," He announces. "I'll have to get rid of it, put it on 'er front porch or something, no use to me," 

His mother called from the kitchen window - something about dinner... he wasn't listening; the cat was so beautiful now, it was a shame to rid of it - but it's corpse would rot and the smell will speak of suspicions. Who's to say that he was going to confess to killing the creature? He'd swear on his grave that he didn't and he wouldn't feel any guilt to give it away. That wasn't a promise - it was a fact.

## III 1/2 Macabre Accord

The cat, as it turns out, was beneficial in the long run; worth more dead to him anyway. So later that day, he slipped from his bedroom window with his mother's pocket knife in hand; after the, admittedly, scary drop, he took to the lone tree that sat in their yard - a dying old thing, remarkably hanging on to very few leaves and housed a family of wood pigeons. 

Hidden from the judgement of his neighbors, provided by the high, worn fence, he positioned the carcass of the tom belly up... He'd never done his before... Going off of a bit of logic, he split the cat's hide from it's throat and down to it's stomach. He inserted the knife underneath the skin and paid mind to the body cavity, from there, he watched as the blood seeped down and matted the cat's fur - leaking into the dirt to create a murky substance. With no more working organs, the toxins released into the air in a foul stench that made his stomach churn horribly; however, that would not stop him. His stomach in check, he placed the tip of the pocket knife onto the tom's sternum and slammed his free hand onto the butt - effectively, forcibly, opening the chest cavity. 

He stole three ribs from the disrespected carcass. His hand dripping with blood, fascinated, he watches as the once-crimson-now-merlot vital fluids run down his arm and onto his clothing. Not exactly a pretty color... He holds the three ribs and assess the situation carefully, from the mutilated corpse to the sick relief in his stomach... He leaves into his thoughts and his body goes unto ice in his wake. So many thoughts echoing in his head, too many to think and not enough to feel regret. 

The sharp caw of a bird stole him back into reality, where he towered over the bloody mess of his neighbor's cat, his eyes found the opened body and he stared at it with blank thoughts and a matching expression. A prickling sensation set from his fingers and it took a moment to feel it but when he did, he looked at his blood-covered hand and he saw a Rook perched on two of his digits - nipping at his fingers... almost affectionately. 

"Bird," He said in a form of greeting. He kneeled down slowly, watching the Rook and getting the same in return, his free hand hunted up one of the cat's rib - one the Rook could have - and he offered it. The Rook gave him an intelligent stare and, rightfully cautious, took the bone into it's beak - it turned it's head to look at him with a painful red eye. 

And he watched, extremely bewildered, as the black bird tried to miraculously swallow the whole bone. And he continued to watch as the Rook choked and choked until it had the common sense to spit it back up; by that time it's feather's were ruffled into odd shapes and puffing up the stupidity in this bird to wear as an appearance trait; he could see how loony this bird really was. 

"I like you," He said to it. "Sort of cute and funny in an idiotic sort of way - you made me feel smart just by that display-" He rubbed his chin in thought. 

"I think I'll call you Cortez," 

Cortez perched on his shoulder and accompanied him for the time being. He put whatever cat cartilage into his pocket and climbed back into his room. He closed the window silently, grabbed Cortez carefully and placed the Rook on his night stand. 

"Just stay there and look cute," He told Cortez, waving a finger in the air. Afterward, he tapped the Rook's head affectionately and dug through his drawers. He collected one of his lonely socks, stuffed it in his pocket, and rooted around some more until he came across an old picture of himself. He stared at it - moreover the smiling faces of David and Rachel Tosspot, his parents. Too think that he once had... He ran his finger over their faces with a melancholy character; his Mother hadn't always been a barmy slag and his Father hadn't always been dead... Such a funny thought. 

He took a pair of scissors and cut them out, cutting until only the grinning face of Stuart Tosspot, himself, remained. He shoved that in his pocket. He dug around for the only pair of jeans he owned and opted to be bare-chested - he only had dresses in his closet... 

"C'mon Cortez," He said and kneeled by the night stand until the Rook joined him on his shoulder. "We gotta get to the graveyard before it closes," 

It was a hard task to escape his Mother's house, one that put his gears to work; though rapidly losing him confidence in his intelligence and the resourcefulness he prided himself on. He worried himself nearly to sickness before he realized that his Mother had already declared he sleep for the rest of the day... then it was the easiest task in the world. First, he locked his bedroom door and then he exited through his window. He was sure Cortez was amused somehow... he just knew from those beady eyes, how they glinted - the highest chance to be amusement... 

It was smooth sailing from there, he walked down the block in peace and it continued this way for his trip to the graveyard. He lead with hurried movements, not fooled by his sport of good luck and had the suspicion something else was at play. Cortez at least seemed to be enjoying itself... he didn't know how to dictate the Rook's gender - could be female, could be not. Whatever, it's damn name will still be Cortez. 

He pushed on the iron gates, cringing at how they groaned in protest, a squeaky, high pitched sound that rung in his eyes, and stepped over the threshold of the graveyard. He felt called out suddenly, he grabbed a handful of dirt from on top a grave, breaking out into a cold sweat as he felt thousand of undead eyes judging the sin plainly written in the dark brown stain on his hand. He collected the graveyard dirt into his lonely sock, crumpling his picture into it as well, followed by the feline ribs. 

He stared at his sock and so did Cortez. 

"Now," He started quietly. "We head to the crossroad-" He turned his head to Cortez and the Rook did the same. "Then we make a deal with the Devil himself,"


	2. Objective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which 2D is revealed to have a sense of justice on his person... Hooray?

# Liberating Manslaughter

His savior dressed in distressed denim jeans and layered parkas, strutted around and flaunted his outermost aspects like he were the illustration of a peepshow; likewise, he was on the game. He knew naught of shame nor of self-control; could be best described as racy and puerile. Honestly? It were as like the man hadn't escaped childhood, moreover trying to keep hold of it. Sad but true - he wondered about this man... 

Or could Monster be more fitting? 

The day his savior arrived at the front door was two weeks after his birthday. Not a peculiar day, sunny but still chilled inside his Father's house walls. If he had time, he could remember it clearly- 

_Just a moment and footsteps were trudging through the corridor, louder and louder... Stomping in an anger that blinded. Fearing the worst, he climbed into his bed, under the "magic, safety" blanket he went, and he stayed in a frighten ball, too afraid to move let alone breath loudly. The door opened with a loud and shrieking creak and, using the logic behind a Tyrannosaurus, he did not move._

_"Get up," He hears Hannibal, his older brother, say to him. "We're hittin' t'e road an' puttin' 'his barmy bastard behind us, Murry,"_

_He shakes his head and replies stiffly:_

_"Piss off, you're just going to get me in trouble - like you always do,"_

_Hannibal groans angrily and lumbers across the distance between them, he grips the dusty blanket and pulls with ferocity; it reveals Murdoc Nicholas, in a fetal position, and full-framed glasses askew on his nose._

_"You tosser!" exclaims Murdoc with indignity and drapes the remaining foot of his covers across his body and then moodily turns to face his back toward his older brother. Hannibal is having none of it._

_"Get yer fackin' shoes on!" Hannibal commands and jerks Murdoc's leg, pulling him halfway off._

_"He's just going to hit me!" Murdoc growls._

_"I'm goin' t' hit you, Murry, if you don't git up. Best be fast about it too, last chance t' leave with me cause I ain't comin' back,"_

_Ultimately, he relents, he slips on his shoes and follows his brother - already the atmosphere is colder and he'd swear his Father was trailing behind them. Sebastian's presence was strong in the house, vile and murder ambitious just like the man himself. But Hannibal doesn't seem effected, enraged mostly, so he tags along through the corridor, through a short hallway with cobwebs and chipping paint, some merlot wallpaper and down the stairs some time later... They find their Father waiting in the foyer, arms crossed and head held high like a ruthless King._

_Murdoc gulps at the sight while Hannibal puffs his chest outward in challenge. He sees his Father's face contort into ultimate rage, his infamous, drunken rage seeping out like tar._

_"Don't you ever come back, you filthy-" Sebastian starts, teeth gritted and eye twitching but then he catches sight of his youngest and his eyes narrow._

_"Where are you going?" Sebastian questions him in a shout and advances toward him, hooked hand menacingly taking dominance._

_"Don't lay a fackin' hand on m' lil' brutha," Hannibal intervenes and boldly pushes Sebastian against his chest, sending the alcoholic backward._

_His brother gives him the task of running to the car and he's in the act of obeying when a grunt of pain escapes Hannibal and is followed by a loud thud. His eyes widening in disbelief, he turns and sees Hannibal, spread eagle, on the dirty carpet. Blood seeps from an unseen wound and it freezes him, cracks his mind into two... Sebastian's hooked hand is still raised, expecting Hannibal to get back up._

_When he doesn't, Sebastian turns his cold glare onto him and says:_

_"You did a bad thing boy,"_

_Murdoc is in no state to comprehend the danger immediately, still petrified by the awful fright of Hannibal bleeding and still is, he can't even begin to wrap his head around his older brother.. bleeding on the floor and staining the carpet... possibly drowning in his own pool of blood if he isn't already dead.. He's overwhelmed; his body wracks in soundless sobs that he can't control nor hear, his cries are silent and without tears, just his body trembling horribly. Seems he's also forgotten how to cry. He puts his hands on his head, just to do something and calm himself down - anything to feel real again, like he wasn't in a dream..._

_The three knocks on the door go unnoticed by him but his Father snarls and storms passed him, a silent threat whispered into his ear - if he dared to move._

_He hears Sebastian open the door._

_"Tosspot," His Father says._

_"Hello!" The disembodied response came shortly afterward; the voice modulated and smoky in a way he can only place as pleasant. It fills his head, clearing away until it's just that voice and he reappears inside his own body again. Murdoc blinks._

_And then a gunshot rings in his head, echoing and echoing until it's all he can feel._

_He turns on his heel and there, his Father lay, limp, against the doorframe like a discarded ragdoll. He can see as Sebastian's wickedness and memories turn to nothingness, just as his life did. He could only hope to see it in his eyes..._

_He hears the voice again. He cranes his neck and silently leans forward, too aware of the gun that the newcomer is of possession. And that's when he sees his savior - a man, skinny to unhealthy charts and weirdly muscular; his heart nearly fails him when he notices the man's hair - it's blue! All of it, every strand, a light blue described as Cerulean. By the second he notices all sorts of strange quirks the other possesses, for example: The worn, sleeveless duster he wears - terribly out fashion - tattoos of weird symbols on his forearm and up, symbols his Father had definitely known, and-_

_And then the man smiles, revealing razor teeth, jagged like a sharks, and as well kept as a pearl - possibly the only thing well-kept about this peculiar gent. But his eyes... darker than any black he's seen-_

_Was his mind playing tricks on him? He takes a step forward, just a small step but it's enough to alert the older gent's attention; he's suddenly staring him with those black, sorrowful eyes. He looks away._

_A moment passes._

_"Does your Mother happen to be home?" The gent asks, blinding with a naive innocence that shouldn't belong to a murderer of such - like he's genuinely curious in a playful golden retriever sort of way._

_Murdoc says in response-_

## II Trivial Transgression

He watched, fixated, as the Officer decked 2D with mighty force; the ex-brunette whacked into the hood of the police cruiser, dazed and broken cheekbones bleeding freely. Comically, 2D sought out Murdoc and seemed to look for confirmation - with the slightest nod of his head, Murdoc confirmed that the Police Officer had indeed struck him. Now the real entertainment began. . . 

2D's indignity shown in his black eyes, they narrowed into a monstrous glare, and he watched as the older gent stood up, arrogantly tall and confident, turned to meet the Officer, and 2D retaliated. Just one clout, well thought-out and from a emaciated looking fellow such as 2D amazingly, the Police Officer stumbled backward and fell hard. Were he outside the police cruiser, not cuffed and feeling brave, Murdoc would have pleaded for the man's safety - the older gent didn't know when to quit. So he looked away, turning a blind eye as 2D straddled the Officer and pummeled him into a bleeding mess; the only witnesses were the police cruiser's headlights that shown, a beacon in the inky black canvas of night around them.

It had been his stupid idea to take 2D's beloved Camaro for a joy ride... And for what? To impress a few girls and gain favor with the rich boys? It went all to pot because now a man may lose his life thanks to him... If only he hadn't snuck out, 2D's stolen car keys in his pocket, and 2D's favorite Brandy in his hand. 

The driver's door swung open and the devil himself, 2D, hunkered down in the driver's seat; breathing heavily and laid his head on the steering wheel. Murdoc was too scared to say anything; he gazed at the older gent with his heart heavy, he was audience as 2D wiped at his face and saw the blood soaked knuckles - blood he knew belonged to the body outside. He gulped at the sight and shivered.

"My car's wrecked..." 2D's voice found the air like a knife to his ribs, gruff in unrelenting anger and painful in a death promise. Murdoc replied with his tone meek and on the verge of a tearful confession:

"I know," 

"You have one chance to explain why-" 2D showed him the stolen Brandy, only a few sips taken, "I'll listen until this is gone," 

Murdoc spoke at once, hurriedly and voice raised in a panic:

"The kids at school said I wouldn't and I didn't want to give them another reason to oppress me so I thought I'd just give them a ride in your really, really cool car and they wanted alcoholic and I didn't know what to do so I broke the lock on your booze cabinet with your microphone - that's broke too - I heard you pacing and I thought you were going to come downstairs so I didn't think anything through and I went out with whatever I had and Tony wanted to drive so I told him he could - ended up he didn't know how to drive-" He kept talking even when 2D finished off the bottle. "-but we crashed and they ran off because we were over the speed limit and red and blue lights were flashing somewhere behind us but I didn't pay no mind because I crashed Stylo and you had no idea and, and, and-"

"Murdoc, you absolute blowhard," 2D said and silenced him at once, "The only one you need to impress is me,"

## II 1/2 Considerate Killing

The unhinged look in 2D's eyes hadn't raised any alarms in his head, the older gent frequently looked like he was ready to torture at any given mood slip; it was the toothy smile, teeth like jagged razors, as 2D started up the police cruiser and closed the driver's door that got him. Brandy slipped down 2D's chin and he let out a howl, much like a wolf but it ended in a cackle of glee. 

"You're a punk-ass teenager now, Douchebag?" 2D asked, unnerving grin still set on his lips. "Wanna steal my fuckin' car? Try and get in-between some slag's legs, huh? Get shit-faced on the booze you stole from me?"

"N-no!" exclaimed Murdoc. He didn't expect 2D to turn around in his seat, a disappointed pout on his features. 

"Pussy," 2D said. "Right when I thought I could have some fun with you, c'mon-" 2D hit the gas pedal and the police cruiser lurched forward in a blur of speed. A dull thump sounded the Officer's body - he was definitely dead now - but 2D. Was. Still. Looking. At. Him. _Pay attention to the fucking road!_

"-Let's have a good time together, eh? Not everyday I can go out and enjoy myself - why not spend some time with the prick I'm spending money on?" At last, 2D drew his attention onto the road. 

Murdoc tumbled painfully and hit the side door, cuffs still tight on his wrists, but he didn't dare bring up the fact that he was still in the back seat of the police cruiser - he didn't want to be sitting next to a deranged bastard. His head felt light as he watched the world flow by, nothing more than colorful blurs, and never had he been more scared - 2D was going terribly fast. 

Wasn't long before they circled around back to the town they were currently residing in, 2D made sure to make the journey unbearably fast and dangerous - apparently in attempts to keep the adrenaline high and to avoid dull moments. 

"This is fun, huh?" 2D spoke as Stroke-on-Trent drew nearer and nearer... 

He didn't speak. 

Finally, once they hit Stroke-on-Trent, 2D eased up on the gas but not by much; still too fast to be legal. Murdoc looked at 2D, very wary, and didn't notice what 2D looked so devious about until the older gent opened the driver's door and it was slammed shut by an impact - a splatter of blood drippled down the window and the sadistic man had the audacity to laugh. 

Murdoc gasped at the horror - he was an accomplice to this! _Damn it all to hell!_

"What are you doing?" Murdoc yelled. 

"Fuck you," 2D replied back, chuckling darkly. "We're havin' _fun,_ " 

"Stop-" 2D interrupted him, shouting over whatever he said:

"Better brace yourself! Can't deny we might not walk away from this one but look at that crowd!" 

Murdoc stole a peek and he saw them - Tony Chopper, his gang, and the girls he was trying to impress. Waiting, frightfully normal, at a stoplight - waiting... waiting to cross the street. No, Murdoc thought in terror. Christ, he should've never gotten them involved - like an idiot he mentioned their names! 2D knew how they looked - the man knew Tony's Father! He should stop trying to be social with this psycho on his back... 

"Please," Murdoc pleaded to 2D. "Can't you just stop being you for a few minutes? Whatever you're going to do, please, just end it?" 

" _'End it,'_ huh?" 2D replied back with a smirk. "So go through with it quickly? Well, alright!" 

_Shit_ , was Murdoc's finally thought before 2D turned the steering wheel to a sharp left and the car turned but began to roll on its' side... rolling, insanely fast, toward a group of teenagers.

Their screams would surely haunt him for the rest of his life and they were the last thing he heard before his vision blackened into oblivion with 2D's laughter ringing him to unconsciousness. . .

 

It didn't last long because the next thing he knew, 2D was pulling his body through the broken back window. His vision patterned in focused and not, blinding light of Stroke-on-Trent surrounded them; it felt like someone was jackhammering against his temples. Glass glittered all around him and a blood stain was on his pants' leg. 

"Come on," 2D said. "I was the one who took most of the damage, you're fine," 

"W-...what's going on?" Murdoc managed to choke out, finding his voice nearly lost to his thoughts. He looked up at 2D, trying to find any explanation, and found 2D sporting a cheesy grin on his face - something like pride danced across his eyes. 

"We did it, Muds," 2D told him. "We got those bastards who were bullying you!"

### II 1/4 Devil-may-care

2D gripped him by the shoulders and squeezed roughly, red and blue lights materialized as police sirens echoed in his ears. Murdoc looked at the crash site and felt his heart fall - crushed, abused, and bloodied bodies of Tony Chopper and his company alerting possible murder. Now caught, they could find out about the innocent pedestrian 2D hit with the car door and the dead Police Officer... 

"Oh god," Murdoc whispered. His face heated up as tears welled in his eyes and he hiccupped, shoulders shaking in time with his cries 

"Don't worry, blud," 2D said to him and rubbed his nose against Murdoc's ear. "Nothing to fret, you're okay - just in shock, had an awful fright that's all. I should have prepared you more sooner, that's my fault. You're taking this like a champ, way better than my first time in a crash-" Murdoc severely doubted that. "-alright, punk, we're just gonna walk back home - you can do that, right? Course you can, c'mon, let's go-"

"But the _police_!" Murdoc shouted in fear. 

"It's okay," 2D promised and, practically, dragged Murdoc behind him as they walked away from the scene. "Nothing will happen to you, you're alright. You've got nothing to fear, just stick with me," 

It was like the Officers didn't see them. On they went, slowly walking across the street and onto the sidewalk as if law-abiding citizens; it was a total mind fuck. 

"Good evening," 2D greeted as they passed a cop car. 

"Have a nice night." and "Good evening." were the responses from the Police Officer's and they continued to the crash site for an investigation; 2D and Murdoc walked on. 

"What's... happening?" Murdoc asked 2D after the older gent took his arm and draped it across his shoulders to support him, seeing as his legs had a difficult time. 

"Oh, that's right," 2D answered. "I never told you."

"Told me what?"

"I've above consequences," 2D nodded and grinned at him. 

"How?"

"I sold my soul, that's how." 2D said simply.


	3. Testing Ameliorate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know anymore...

# Five-finger Discount

A shabby leitmotif of discoloration hung around the gas station along with the wafted scent of pungent odor - cigar smoke. If the appearance had been enough to turn his nose up too then the state of the products had more than worried his stomach. 

"Are you hungry?" Was where it started, the older gent [2D, the man demanded to be called] asked him following a day with silence between them; the washed neutral character of Hertfordshire bathed in a darkness of blue. They had walked the length of the city and by eventide his feet were more than exhausted, possibly swelled and cracked, which was the occurring pain matching his hunger - four days with no food or water had been more than apparent torture - especially considering he'd been mildly well-fed before his travels with 2D. He was on the verge of pouting and self-pity when 2D struck the question and he was more than willing to comply with a grateful response:

"I'm about starved!" 

2D threw his head back as he laughed, he said:

"Of course you would be! How silly." 

And it had only added to his confusion but he didn't question upon it - he questioned 2D's endurance. 

"Aren't you?" Murdoc asked, a little concerned by this disturbing feat - given 2D had already looked like a starving corpse when he'd killed Sebastian. 

2D shook his head. 

"No." 2D said. "I'm never hungry." 

"No offense but it shows." Murdoc marveled, shamelessly staring at 2D's exposed mid-riff - clearly too skinny to be anywhere near healthy or even a livable condition. 

"Well, piggy, let's stop at my Ma's old favorite, huh?" 2D continued, choosing to ignore Murdoc's response. 

And then they came upon a weary gas station, which 2D insisted was what he had talked of. 

"Quite picky, aren't you?" 2D tilted his head at Murdoc. "When I was your age I didn't have the luxury and it's about time someone stripped you of it; this is the best it's gonna get so either swallow your pride and get something or I'll grow bored and we'll just leave." 

In the end, Murdoc accompanied 2D into the less than satisfactory establishment. He wrung his hands and stuck close to 2D, who didn't seem to mind too much, and barely paid mind to any of the flat sodas and presumably fresh productions. 

"Would you rather a penguin biscuit over a hobnob?" 2D asked suddenly, holding both bars in his hands and staring intently at a ripped poster next to the cashier - disinterested in any of the selection and in Murdoc's choice. 

"Yes," Murdoc replied uneasily. 

"Really?" 2D looked at him, eyes sparked in a dull glint of curiosity. "I've always fancied hobnobs' more than anything truthfully."

"So basically your favorite?" 

"I'd say so, yea." 2D nodded. 

"That's....good to know." Murdoc deadpanned. "Would you mind something along the lines of-err....supper oriented?" 

"Want a sausage roll then?" 

"I... am alright with anything," Murdoc clarified. 

"Then why the hell isn't a penguin biscuit enough?" 2D asked rhetorically. 

Murdoc watched 2D pocket both bars with an almost slack jaw.

"Actually-" Murdoc started after 2D, hesitantly grabbing the older gent's shoulder. "I think I'm good on everything, a hundred percent." 

"Okay." 

2D didn't chase a second thought as he paraded around the selection and took as he pleased, grabbing water bottles and teas and molasses and crumbly foods and dried goods - taking some even from the American selection. Murdoc remained in his helpless state and whispered passive protests to the older gent's actions, worrying over consequences that only made 2D laugh. 

"Consequences be damned." 2D said darkly. "I am a free man and I will follow my own rendition of the declaration of independence." 

"Even that's full of contradictions." Murdoc chimed. 

"Amendments exist."

"Your moral ground is a mess."

"Morals are an illusion to keep the sheep in line." 2D stated. "Once you get that through your head, only then will the unachievable be achieved." 

"Christ, you need help." Murdoc mumbled in stricken awe. 

After done raiding what he wished, 2D had an impressive 2 bags that held varying food material.

"Sustainable for your needs." 2D said cheekily on the way to his door, believing Murdoc was following after him. 

"We can't!" Murdoc squawked. "Why can't you be a functioning member of society?" 

2D turned to him and gave him an odd smirk, eyes crinkled in an awkward realization that he wasn't in the mood. 

"I'm not." 2D said. "Nor will I ever take the role of something so domestic, that isn't who I am and it's about time you get that picture out of your head." 

"This isn't a life! Running around this shit place with no plan like you belong no where is not what I want! I'd rather you have shot me like my father - at least then I wouldn't be an accomplice to your horrible acts of fucking murder and burglary! I have no idea how you travel like this, inhumane nature, and not get caught by the Peelers - or even be able to live with yourself! You're a horrible person, 2D, and it'd nothing short of a miracle to all of humanity if you dropped dead." Murdoc huffed after his astounding outburst that didn't phase 2D in the slightest - outwardly at least. 

"June nineteenth," 2D began. "I made the journey to the residence of Sebastian Niccals - with the intent to murder him on behalf of a very good friend of mine. I didn't count on Mister Niccals having a son - a young boy no doubt - and it was with that came a very hard decision. Murder the boy, leaving no trace of the Niccals lineage, and carry on to my Paula in Edinburgh... Or let the boy get his chance at life.

"It was my fucked morals that let you live. It was my leftover humanity that left me restless at the prospect of letting you fend for yourself. It was my compassion that abandoned my pregnant girlfriend so that I could wander with you on my trail," 

"You sure that you just didn't want anything to do with raising a kid?" Murdoc snarled. 

"What do you think I'm doing now?" 2D inquired with bared teeth. "Talk down to me all you want, hate me for all I care, but you can't say I'm not doing my damnedest to figure this guardian shit out. When will you ever figure out that I don't have to do this? I don't have to bring you along with me-"

"To where?" Murdoc interrupted with an enraged shout. "You said you were 'wandering' with me! Screw you! You don't have a plan, you don't care so long as I'm still breathing at the end of the day?"

"Isn't that what parenting is?" 2D seethed. "You're alive, you're gonna make it to adulthood!" 

"No, that isn't you daft fuck!"

"How would you know?" 2D growled. "You've never had a functioning parent so how the fuck would you know what you're missing out on?" 

"Because I've seen it! I've dreamed about it! That's all I've ever wanted!" Murdoc retorted. "And you're one to talk! I can't believe someone spent time, energy, and money into someone - something! - as foul as you!"

"No one did you absolute wanker." 2D replied smoothly, adjusting his grip on the filled bags and rolling his shoulders from holding the impressive load for too long. "The moment my Dad died my Mother might as well too - I wish she did. She took everything from me, stripped me from everything that I was until all I was left is what you see before you now. 

"I paid for my Dad's death, I paid for my Mother's miscarriage - that horrid woman fucked with me until I finally took a knife to her fucking throat. Both our childhood's was rough, alright? Unlike you, I actually did something about it instead of playing the victim card like it was all I had; I became what I had too. I became something that couldn't fall apart - I became something greater than what my Mother did to me, I don't let my childhood anchor who I am." 

Murdoc grimaced. He said:

"Says the one whose nightmares plague every waking moment."

2D gave him a blank glare, black eyes glittering with profound questioning and self-restraint. 

"Don't think I haven't noticed - I'm not as dumb as you think I am.

"I know the haunted look you have when you can hear your parents screaming at you even when they're long gone." 

"Is that so?" 2D asked sourly. "Whatever. I don't care what you have to say - nothing has changed, good job. You're still going to tag along with me and-" 2D held up both bags. "-You're gonna fucking eat this slob because I didn't pick all this shit out for you just for you to turn your nose up, alright? Hurry up!"

"I'm not committing anymore crimes!" Murdoc shouted. He went to the cashier, looking at him with a wild look. "And why the hell aren't you stopping him? He didn't pay for any of that!"

"Stopping who?" The cashier responded flatly, eyes red and looked positively out of it. Murdoc pointed at 2D and angrily clarified. 

"Ain't nobody there though." The cashier said and looked anywhere but at the older gent, suddenly showing signs of sickness and fear. "I ain't seen nothing - nothing at all." 

"No." Murdoc gawked. "No - first the police officers now... He murdered a bunch of teenagers, please don't tell me he's actually above the law!" 

The cashier remained aloof and offered directions to the nearest mental institution, which only riled Murdoc up beyond reason; unbeknownst to Murdoc, 2D had put down the bags and grew closer to both Murdoc and the cashier - who started to show signs of paranoia and immense discomfort as the distant between 2D and him grew smaller... 

"He's a madman!" Murdoc groaned, slamming his fists onto the counter and looked at the cashier - who looked ready to break apart - with pleading intensity. 

"What did you see?" 2D broke in, addressing the young cashier with a blank stare. "What did you see, Mister Adam?" 

Adam, a young man of 17 with blond curls, reached under the counter and revealed a small handgun - used to defend from burglars no doubt - and raised it to set under his chin. 

"I ain't seen nothing, sir." Adam responded with indescribable fear in his watery, hazel eyes that was burned into Murdoc's brain. Murdoc didn't notice when 2D gripped his shoulders, a supposed comfort, as Adam proceeded to blow his own brains out.

## II Ignorant Crony

The grating sound of Cortez's argument soon fell upon deaf ears, Stuart no longer held the bickering and merely sat on the suitcase, motionless, as his rook remained on his shoulder, nipping at his ear and plucking his hair; he possessed great patience with this bird - more patience than he gave himself - but it was stretching too thin. After a particular hard tug, Stuart shushed Cortez and said:

"Enough, you. You are going nowhere with this and it doesn't change anything - I'll still lug you around, you tosser," 

Cortez shrieked at him in response, ruffling his feathers in a display of anger and high regard to it's opinion; Stuart shushed him again, scolding the rook for so foolishly screaming when this was a situation where they must remain under the radar. 

"You barmy bastard, shut up will you!" 

A groan of protest escaped from neither of them and, shortly after, a heavy weight fell with a loud thunk! Another suitcase had fallen due to the train's disagreeable ride. 

"I should've never kept you," Stuart seethed but went against his words and smoothed Cortez's plumage with an affection like family. 

"What will make you understand?" Stuart asked as Cortez bit at his fingers, in a tantrum. "Our hair color may be the same but we are not-"

Cortez screamed its protest.

"Your hair is not hair but feathers." 

Cortez cocked its head and one could say gazed at him but Stuart knew better - Cortez was glaring at him. 

'I don't believe you' Stuart knew Cortez was saying. 

"I'm gonna eat you." Stuart deadpanned.

## III Fault-Finding

2D had never sought out to cause him pain, only the shouts of threats that didn't matter; when it actually happened however... when 2D had grabbed his hair and flung him around like he wasn't anything, ultimately slamming him down onto the concrete... It knocked the wind out of him and sent jolts of pain throughout his body - never before had 2D shown any real bark in his words. Murdoc finally saw how much separated 2D from humanity; the sinister need to cause harm could be seen in the older gent's black eyes. Murdoc finally had something to fear. 

"I should kill you." 2D said to him, looking at him with disgust. "You'd be improved if you took a bullet to the head, honestly." 

Murdoc tried not to whimper and mustered whatever he had left, scraping it up from deep within his person, to glare up at 2D - who towered over him. 2D laughed at him, laughed so sincerely it was sick and so... horrifying. 

"You're so beautiful," 2D chuckled, running his hand over Murdoc's bloody, disfigured, nose that he'd caused with such tender care it was like love. "And that's only with this broken nose..."

2D's hands found their way around Murdoc's neck and he applied pressure in a steady rhythm, it left Murdoc a wringing mess in no time; he dug his fingernails into the soft column of the younger's neck and cherished as the lack of oxygen made Murdoc's eyes roll backwards. He could watch as Murdoc's character disappeared from this body happily and he was so tempted to do so - he had a hard time restraining himself. 

"I can make you gorgeous," 2D told Murdoc. "Like I did with my Mother and my neighbors' cat and my own best friend!" 2D laughed. "You'll be so happy like that! I know you'd love it! Everyone is just dying for this! No breathe in your lungs to scream your wickedness and sin into the fresh, pure air, no blood pumping in your veins to ruin someone's confidence with your words - it'll be so fun and happy!" 

2D picked up Murdoc by the scruff of his neck and slammed him down even harder than before; he watched as the younger man spit up his own blood and grinned. He couldn't restrain himself - but was he even trying? 2D ran his hand along Murdoc's side, feeling where hip became torso, and rested his hand on Murdoc's face that was frozen in the beautiful picture of torment and terror; it fueled him. 

"Let me make you beautiful," 2D whispered with a devilishly grin. 

Murdoc still fought against 2D.

"Lemme go-" Murdoc pleaded.

"I know what you're feeling!" 2D screamed at him, keeping his smile plastered on his face. "I know exactly what you're feeling! The hopeless panic of instinct that keeps you from dying, the shear fear you have because death is so close! That's what she made me feel in every moment of her existence - she had to go! I just loved her too much to let her live! I loved her so much, I loved my Mother so much that I couldn't bear to let a wicked witch harbor her body any longer so I made her pretty again! In her death she'd let me do anything, she'd never yell at me - just like how she was when Dad was still alive! I had to do it," 2D patted Murdoc's face and chuckled shakily. "I do not envy you right now..." 

And like that the spell was broken; 2D pulled away from Murdoc and sat down, head in his hands. Murdoc was too afraid to move - not like he could if he wanted too. 

"I need help." 2D finally said after minutes of silence, silence interrupted by Murdoc's need for stabilizing oxygen. 

"I need help." He repeated, a realization just for himself.


	4. Final

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the crap stories lately, I've been super busy because as of a few months ago I've started working multiple jobs and hadn't had time for writing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd spare you from this if the 4/4 chapter count didn't matter to me, I'd lost motivation for this but I've finished it! So you can curse me later about my shit writing nowadays but you can't say I didn't try truthfully

# Passionate lies

2D’s breath was fire against his skin, akin to the entirety of the word passion; the older gent huffed and pulled the slightest groan, wiring a tingling pleasure that trembled Murdoc’s soul-case, leaving him breathless and brain two steps from reality. The new sensations and emotions were overwhelming in a right and he couldn’t help the strangled cry as 2D worked years of experience - all too new and intense, a panic laced into him. The raunchiness grew heavy and dirtiness snaked wherever 2D’s fingers touched, almost like a stain that wouldn’t go away with a sponge and soap. 

“Stop-” Murdoc pled for the umpteenth time, trying so hard to keep from tenting his trousers - an impressive feat considering 2D of all people was in the process of taking him. 

2D’s voice silenced him, a note of asperity, and disgust shown on his face, the older gent said:

“I’d never want you,” Murdoc whimpered and something like instinct pushed 2D to nibble along the smooth column of neck that was presented to him; it completely contradicted his words and 2D left the severity to die on his tongue, instead, a new approach arose. “I only ever want to love but one person.”

“Corny,” Despite the erotic happening, Murdoc gathered his wits about him and grinned. 

“Not so much,” 2D muttered, voice gruff as he stared hungrily at Murdoc’s neck, tracing along the adam’s apple. “I failed to even do that, too young and set in my torment to realize I’d thrown away the only woman that could possibly love me.”

“Did you love her?” Murdoc questioned, curious about the distant look in 2D’s black eyes - dark voids that usually only managed to emote a sinister quality. Something human remained and Murdoc could see it. 

“I was learning.” 2D answered and trailed off his thoughts, more truth than what 2D had spoken for months. “She died before I could properly show her what she was teaching me…”

“That usually tends to follow you, doesn’t it?” 

“I wasn’t surprised,” 2D said. “I made it a point to not care and that was one of my best lies I’ve ever conjured.”

“Tell me more,” Murdoc softly demanded, spoiled in 2D’s own way of tough love. 

“What is there to tell? Apathy turned to awareness, awareness shaped into realization, and realization spurred revolution.” 

“More,” Murdoc gripped 2D’s small waist, confident as 2D had made his fantasies true on his own. “It’s plain you are troubled by your thoughts.”

2D merely scoffed, shifting uncomfortable in Murdoc’s hands and a sour look decorated his face - nothing that was new to Murdoc. A haunted fear still lingered but Murdoc concluded this was not a mental breakdown for 2D; he would not be harmed for perhaps a human was there to restrain the demon the older claimed he was. 

2D said:

“The revolution came too late because my daughter died before I could show her what her mother worked so endlessly for - my daughter never understood how much love she could put in this empty meatsuit.” 

“That’s not the way to think,” Murdoc said. “Just because they’re gone, it doesn’t give you an excuse to go back on what your sweetheart worked for - like you’ve said, she worked too hard for you to regress.” 

“I never stopped,” 2D stated. “Why do you think I’m snogging you in an alleyway? I’m, like, twice your age - sort of weird and that’s by my standards.”

“Just say your point,”

“I want to feel something other than these boring emotions I was stuck with for over a decade,” 2D pulled away from Murdoc, a hesitance that couldn’t have belonged to a man as such and what rested in 2D was a reflection of Murdoc. “I can feel your heartbeat echo inside me, I can almost fool myself - I’ll never tire of.. Humanity. I love feeling so elated in your attraction, so soon I could not replicate your romantic feelings but I enjoy in pretending I could,” 

“You can learn.” Murdoc countered, a plea upon his lips. “Enough of these sob stories, you can learn.”

## II Sweet and short

The pain had cleared away like sand, a pinprick compared to the war inside his head that never ceased; he liked to pretend the feeling wasn’t there - he liked not caring. It was only a drop in his polluted ocean of regrets so why should he care? Exactly, he didn’t… 

“It was great Miss Paula.” He said as way of goodbye and kissed her forehead, a fleeting moment passed where he wanted to stay. 

“You’re horrible, Tosspot.” Paula Cracker spat at him, cursing his name with as much force reckoned by her love for him - a silly display where he could see through the hate and still see the surviving affection. The betrayal had nothing against him and the tears were sincere in their heartbreak but the accusation needed for her negative feelings wasn’t real - she didn’t blame him. And perhaps that was the reason why, when he looked in her eyes, he faltered with everything in his being - he would bet that she finally saw through him, saw the little boy who tried so hard to have a static existence. He couldn’t look at her anymore, he couldn’t speak in her presence and he couldn’t exist in her orbit because he knew she deserved better, the unconditional love in her heart was still there, as shown in her eyes, and that was perhaps the reason he fled from her.

## III looking deeper

Murdoc was a boy of many questions and 2D spoiled him in his own way, either feeling too little to care or feeling too much to deny Murdoc answers; was that where it had started? 2D couldn’t piece it together, he still had the knowledge of a little boy unfortunately - one of the many consequences of a static existence. He didn’t understand the concept of forgiveness - something Murdoc handed out freely; 2D blamed it on Murdoc’s need for validation and left it at that. 

“What did you sell your soul for exactly?” Murdoc asked him, catching him off guard as silence had remained for the past hours. “You change the reason every time. First, it was your mother, then the police, then your father and then-”

“You wouldn’t understand.” 2D concluded firmly. “You’re mortal.”

“You’ve underestimated me before.” Murdoc insisted. “Besides, how different are our lives, really?”

“Extremely different.” 2D stated once Murdoc had spoken, confident in his answer. But he couldn’t help his consideration, silence reigned for naught but a minute before he was speaking again:

“I was just tired of all the bullshit.” 

Murdoc hummed. “A little boy who couldn’t live in his own skin anymore but was too afraid to die.”

2D hummed right back, a scornful sound. “Seems you’ve got me figured out.”

“I had to be sure,” Murdoc demurred. “I’ve been wrong about you before.”

“Yea’ whatever, smartass,”

##  Finally 

The bruises were ugly and the welts showed him nothing but his guilt. He washed them free of blood, trying to make it up to him, and so hoped that his tears wouldn’t give him away - the man hated weakness. And weakness had gotten 2D’s body battered and busted like a china figure; the yellow spots and swelling tore at his heart. 2D would feign indifference, say it didn’t hurt, and brush off this incident like nothing had happened, but Murdoc knew better - this meant something because 2D wasn’t one to not fight back. When had 2D never stood his ground? 

“Hurry up.” The older man-in-question huffed, hiding away the strain in his voice as well as Murdoc hid his tears. 

“Why did you do it?” Murdoc demanded, hiccups invading his tone and making him small and meek. 

“Do what?” 2D played dumb. “I overestimated them, okay? I’m not as strong as I thought I was,”

Symbolic in 2D’s own right and Murdoc spent too much time with the man to not know the signs; the older gent hadn’t swung at any of them and Murdoc had seen the man in a rage only a demon had a knack for. But he had seen it - it was written all over 2D’s face when he’d rounded the corner and saw Murdoc backed against the wall, a closing suit of armed men around him. So why didn’t 2D fight back? Why had 2D locked eyes with him as he was pummeled with fists? It was simple, had to be - 2D wanted Murdoc to voice his apology in action. Was that it? Or was he looking too deep into this? 

“Why didn’t you fight back?” Murdoc questioned. 

“It was I did and then I didn’t? Make up your mind, I’m only answering one.” 

Murdoc was finished with tendering 2D’s body. He wrapped his arms around the older gent and cuddling close, soft like 2D had confessed unending love. The older gent made an uncomfortable sound at the back of his throat and shifted in the close proximity. 

“I can forgive you,” Murdoc forced out. 

“Christ, child,” 2D said in exasperation. “You need to get your shit together.” 

A beat of silence and 2D concluded:

“You’re right - I can learn, I mean.”


End file.
